


ever at thy side

by mantisbelle



Category: Thronebreaker: The Witcher Tales (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, Comfort No Hurt, F/M, First Time, Loyalty, Missionary Position, Tender Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vanilla, Wiedźmin | The Witcher-Typical Bathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mantisbelle/pseuds/mantisbelle
Summary: Fighting a war is tiring, exhausting business.On a rare night spent in an inn, Meve invited Reynard to join her in order to ease some loneliness. He gladly obliged.-----------------------Sugar and Spice BingoPrompt: Loyalty
Relationships: Meve/Reynard Odo
Kudos: 11
Collections: Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo





	ever at thy side

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo](https://sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo.tumblr.com/) using the prompt "loyalty." 
> 
> Enjoy!

Months of life on the road left Meve feeling exhausted and wrung out. 

It was the camping in tents more often than not, and being in a saddle more often than not, only for the usual interruptions in that pattern to be skirmishes or ambushes. Staying in one place for more than one night at a time was an absolute rarity. 

Meve knew that it was selfish to think of her own comfort when her soldiers were faced with so much worse, with worse conditions than she could hope for. But still she was  _ tired _ and she wanted a chance to rest. Her men would too, as would her advisors. 

The only respite she, or any of them for that matter, ever seemed to get was when the chance arrived to erect a tent and take the time to create a bed more comfortable than the thin bedroll she’d made her home most nights. Meve’s was the same sort of bedroll that most of her men used, just a bit more stuffed and more likely to be mended the moment that there was a rip. The true luxury came in her blankets and pillow. 

A night that she was able to spend in a proper  _ inn _ was an even greater rarity. She looked forward to a chance for a bath taken in something other than a pond and a proper bed more than anything else. Of course, she also liked the idea of a hot meal that had no inclusion of hardtack whatsoever.

But there was always work to be done. She was trying to retake her  _ kingdom _ , she could not idly sit by and watch her son rule as a Nilfgaardian puppet from afar. No, she would take back Lyria and Rivia by force if that was what needed to be done. Her true hope was that she might get Villem to hand it back to her when the prospect of ruling proved too great. 

Meve missed her sons. She missed the boys that she’d brought up from birth, the little menaces that they often were. 

In a way, being a mother to two sons may have very well been what prepared her to lead an army from the fore. Toddlers and soldiers required a similarly firm hand just as much as they both needed care and attention and someone willing to listen. 

But yes, she missed Villem and Anséis alike. One day, she hoped to see them again. In Villem’s case, she hoped he could manage to keep his head. In Anséis’ case, her greater concern was his general safety as he had effectively been rendered his older brother’s ward. 

Regardless of what happened, Meve’s concern for her sons tended to overtake anything else and turned meetings in her makeshift war room hard to sit through. 

It was when her commanders were starting to trickle out that Meve spoke, feeling a need for some company from someone that had been at her side long before the war had started. 

“Reynard,” she said, looking to her right hand. “Stay, if you would. I’d like a chance to speak to you alone.” 

“Of course,” he replied, uncaring that Gascon had decided to hover by the door for a moment too long. Meve gave him a look and then Gascon was either off to go to bed, to enjoy a few drinks, or to entertain himself with the dog, whichever he liked more. 

Reynard and Gascon were at least getting along, but Meve didn’t miss the snarling glance that Reynard shot in Gascon’s direction which was the last thing needed to clear him out of the room and win the two of them some privacy as Meve had hoped. 

“You asked for me, your grace?” Reynard asked, setting his helm down on the table where the maps were still spread out. The battle plans had been recorded and tucked away in safety, but the map could stay. Meve had things to consider anyhow.

“I did,” Meve sighed heavily, “I thought it would be harmless to ask for an evening of your company.” 

“I—”

“If you are going to call me by titles, I’d suggest you don’t do so,” Meve cut him off before he could say anything else. “We’re alone and I am not speaking to you as a count, a general, a knight, or an advisor. I’m speaking to you as a man.” 

Reynard relaxed visibly, and so Meve allowed herself to breathe and relax as well. There was no need for both of them to be so tightly wound for the moment. Reynard was loyal, he had been for as long as Meve had known him, even back when Reginald, her departed husband had still lived. 

“Of course, Meve,” Reynard said quietly. “I’ve nowhere else to be.” 

“Neither do I,” Meve admitted, “I was expecting to be straight to bed after meeting, but came to realize that I’m tired but not so tired to want no company. Join me in my room, we’ll sit and eat and try to relax.” 

Reynard’s cheeks pinked ever so slightly. “A hot meal would be more than welcome,” he said in a way that made him seem somewhat embarrassed. “Should I ask what the occasion is?” 

“I miss my family,” Meve breathed out, knowing that it was open as she would be allowed to be. “After so many years of your loyalty I’m afraid you’re the next best thing. Funny considering that I’ve known you longer than I did my husband before his death.” 

Reynard let out a heavy sigh. “I understand,” he said, “waging war against Villem must be exhausting you more than if it was any other adversary.”

“I certainly wouldn’t feel such exhaustion over Demavend,” Meve grumbled. “I’m starting to think I’m a better commander than I am a mother, however. And most days I have to even wonder about how good of a commander I am to begin with. I can’t seem to go two days without stepping in it somehow.” 

Reynard stepped in close to her, but did not reach out to touch her. So many rules of propriety that couldn't be ignored, not even when there was nobody else there to see them. “Perhaps it would help to get away from the planning,” Reynard suggested, “I can finish up here, order food to your room and then I can meet you there.” 

Meve felt something in her soften, something defrosting and warming that she didn’t get to feel warm often anymore. “I can finish here,” Meve said, “I’m more than capable of taking the maps to my room. You can get the food if you would like and—” She paused. “And order a bath. I’d like to stop smelling of horse sooner than later.” 

Reynard stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her. “You’re certain?”

“I am,” Meve answered him, “I don’t expect fine fragrances or oils, all I’m hoping for is hot water and some soap, if that’s possible.”

“Hmm,” Reynard considered the request, “I’ll see what I can do as far as toiletries,” Reynard said with all the calm in the universe which in no way matched with the reddening of his face. “I’m sure I can find something.” 

“So long as I can be clean,” Meve grumbled, “I’m willing to accept whatever you find.” 

“Of course,” Reynard breathed. “I’ll meet you.” 

With that, he grabbed up his helmet and turned on his heel, heading off to his room to drop off his things and then down to the inn’s dining room which was undoubtedly filled to the brim with Lyrian soldiers.

Meve watched him go, then gathered the maps and what needed to be stored away off of the table. She retreated to her room which was empty, thankfully. Some nights Meve couldn’t stop herself from worrying that she’d step into whatever her quarters were for the night and find a dagger waiting for her. Some days were so bad that she wasn’t even sure that she could eat what was given to her. Nothing had happened, but after the betrayal of her own son Meve could never be truly sure anymore. Even after the war, Meve didn’t know that she’d ever feel such security again. 

She tucked away the maps out of sight and seated herself on the bed that she’d been given. The long iron pin that held the folds of her cloak in place was the first thing she took off, and when her cloak lots its shape and fell around her, she removed it and laid it out on the bed at her side. 

Meve considered taking out her braid but decided against it. She didn’t know whether Reynard had ever seen her with her hair down. She’d already asked him to join her when she fully intended to  _ bathe _ . Even if Meve didn’t invite him into the water with her, the line was more than sufficiently crossed. She expected Reynard to handle the matter with his usual calm. 

She could also trust that he wouldn’t be looking to put a blade through her back. 

Truly, Reynard’s unwavering steadiness was a virtue.

Meve removed her boots and set them down at the foot of the bed. Even though she had the luxury of being able to ride everywhere, her feet ached all the same. At least she had thick socks to protect her from blisters and most other potential ailments. 

Even then, Isbel was an asset which Meve had no intentions to let go of anytime soon. Having a proper healer in the ranks was not something to be abandoned, under any circumstances. Isbel being a  _ sorceress _ made her even more valuable, regardless of any oaths of pacifism.

The knock on the door made Meve rise from her seat, lay her cloak across the back of a chair, and go to the welcome Reynard in. Just outside, he stood, changed out of his armor and instead wearing a simple grey tunic which held none of the grandiose qualities of his armor. He did not come to her dressed as a general or a count, only as a man.

“Here,” Meve reached for one of the two plates of food that Reynard had brought. “No need for you to handle everything.” 

He passed the plate over with care then followed Meve inside. She set her plate down at the table on one side, while Reynard did the same on the other. He looked across at her with a slightly pained expression. “I didn’t have enough hands to bring up drinks,” Reynard told her, “I have to apologize.” 

“It’s no matter,” Meve glanced to her saddlebags. She had a wine skin tucked away inside, and while Meve wouldn’t have normally shared its contents, she was willing to make an exception. “I have it handled.” 

Reynard’s mouth opened slightly. “Your grace?” 

Meve stood up and strode across the room to open up the saddlebag and remove the wine skin. When she returned to the table she offered it to Reynard, who took it with some caution. When he opened it and sniffed at its contents Meve saw the slightest wrinkle of his nose. 

She made herself comfortable in her seat and watched Reynard drink. “Surely not the finest vintage, but I find it gets the job done.” 

Reynard passed the wine skin back with a grimace. “It tastes like the swill Gascon enjoys,” Reynard remarked, “Certainly burns going down.”

“Aye,” Meve drank and re-capped the wine skin before setting it down on the table between them. “But it does the trick, I find.”

Reynard nodded, and it was only when Meve turned her attention to her meal did he begin to relax at all. The food was scrumptious, or perhaps it only seemed that way after so many nights spent eating barely seasoned game and hardtack. Duck cooked in its own fat, boiled potatoes, and asparagus slathered in butter and finished with Koviri salt. Absolutely  _ grand  _ by the standards of the last few months. 

Reynard ate politely, eyes flicking up to watch Meve as she ate. It was slightly annoying, but eventually their two gazes met and held, neither quite sure what to do. Meve was used to having Reynard close, but this was closer than she’d ever allowed before. 

And there was going to be a bath brought up later. And yet, for the moment, she had no intention to banish Reynard.

Meve straightened up and laid the fork she held down across the rim of her plate, the same way that she would at any court. “Is there something the matter, Reynard?” 

He decided to mirror her, laying down his fork and knife then straightening up in near-exact fashion. “Of course not,” Reynard said, “Merely unsure of what to do.” 

“Mm,” Meve considered another drink of Gascon’s questionable vodka, “I’m not entirely sure either. I invited you because I wanted company but I realize that we’ve never enjoyed a meal together that wasn’t also attended by twenty others.” 

Reynard opened his mouth to respond, closed it, and then opened it again to speak once he’d come around to what he wanted to say. “I suppose this isn’t the same as sharing a fire, either.” 

“Not at all,” Meve said, “much more private and I still can’t just say whatever I’d like.”

“Do you think the walls have ears?" 

Meve considered the question. “Here? No,” she finally came to an answer. “More concerned because of who I’m speaking to.” 

“You know I would never betray you,” Reynard responded eagerly. “I couldn’t dream of it.” 

Meve shrugged, frowning, “I apologize. After Villem I’ve learned that betrayal can come from those closest to you.”

Reynard nodded, expression all too sad. “I wish that this was not the case,” he said quietly, “I’d rather we all be able to rest easy back home.” 

Meve cocked her head to the side and considered Reynard. “Correct me if I am wrong,” Meve said quietly, “but you are a bachelor, are you not?”

“Most days I feel like that will always be the case,” Reynard said with a stilted wave of the hand. “And most days I’m not entirely sure that I mind. But now that we’re fighting a war, I’ve realized that none of us have the time for such distractions anyhow.” 

Meve hummed. She understood, oh how she understood. She understood wanting others close but not being able to take advantage because there were so many more important things happening around her. “Company over dinner can be something.” 

Across from her, Reynard stilled for just a moment. “It certainly can,” he said after a moment. “I’m honored by your invitation, Meve. Truly.”

“I’m glad for your choice to accept,” Meve replied, poking at her potatoes with her fork. “You truly are my most trusted advisor, Reynard. I may listen to others, but you are the one that has been here since the beginning and despite the circumstances. I cannot stress enough how important that is to me.” 

“You know that I will serve you for as long as I live,” Reynard said, “and if that means I remain a perpetual bachelor and never have a family of my own, that is a sacrifice I am willing to make. Lyria and Rivia’s freedom is more important to me than anything else. What comes after is what comes after.”

Meve tilted her head to the side and for a moment she let herself take in Reynard’s appearance. He hadn’t been going grey back when the two of them had met. He hadn’t had the frown lines and tired brow that he wore. He’d merely been a young knight looking to serve her long-departed husband.

A thought came to Meve’s mind. “When you decided to serve me after Reginald’s death I thought you made that choice out of pity,” she admitted, “because you felt bad for the widow left alone with her two boys, since Villem was no older than seven and  Anséis was… gods, four .”

“Pity was never a part of it,” Reynard said, “you led Reginald’s hand more often than not. I knew that you would rule justly. You’ve always been exceptional, Meve.” 

Meve glanced down at the table where Reynard had one hand resting. She could have reached across and touched him, took his hand in hers and—

And led him to her bed.

Would he even come if she asked? Would he lag behind, would he turn red and remove himself from her room never to speak of the incident again? Meve genuinely was unsure and yet she wanted to ask and find out what happened. 

It would be improper. It’d be so improper that Meve wasn’t sure either of them would ever be able to show their faces in a court without endless gossip following them. 

Of course, that assumed that either of them would be able to go to court again. It assumed that they beat out the Nilfgaardians, or weren’t cut down in battle, or that they both survived to see a world after the war. 

If they died, then Meve realized she might only regret not taking him to bed.

If they didn’t, then there were likely to be consequences. Ones which she’d have to maneuver to sidestep. 

“Reynard,” Meve said, keeping her voice down. “Stay when the bath comes. I’d like for you to stay.” 

“Meve, that’s—”

She took a heavy breath, trying her best to calm herself. There was no need to get so emotional over something so small. “I’d like the company. And I’d hope you wouldn’t mind.” 

Reynard was quiet, considering the request carefully. “What would be expected of me if I decided to stay?” 

“You might be asked to wash my back,” Meve answered him. “Perhaps take my hair out of its braid. If you are opposed feel free to leave when the water is brought up. Mostly, I would like the chance to continue speaking.” 

Reynard stared at her. “And what if I decided to stay and help? What would be expected…”

“After?”

“After,” Reynard echoed her. “What would happen?”

Meve tensed, not sure that she was right to say what she wanted to say. Not sure that she wasn’t asking too much of someone that already gave her so much. 

And then she thought of Demavend, who had begged her to aid in removing his lover from a burning city in the hopes of protecting his newborn son. His baby bastard, who would no doubt eventually be legitimized. 

If Demavend was allowed his dalliances on the side, then why wouldn’t she? Reynard could be trusted. He stayed close to her for a reason. 

She met his eyes and stared into them. “If you chose to stay, I’d likely invite you to bed. I imagine you find yourself in need of comfort in the middle of this war as much as I am.”

Reynard swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing visibly in his throat. He reached for the wine skin and when his fingers brushed against it he drew back, thinking better of taking another drink. “Are you at all concerned about rumors? Or about any favoritism?”

“You know I am not one to allow favoritism to rule my mind,” Meve said, “if I did, we would not be warring against my own son.”

“And the rumors?”

“Soldiers will talk regardless,” Meve murmured, not entirely sure what she was meant to say. “But tonight they drink and revel and enjoy the fact that we’re somewhere that they have a chance to enjoy hot food and all they can drink. Perhaps that will be distraction enough.” 

Reynard shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You make a compelling argument, Meve.” 

She could guess what it was that made him shift the way that he did. “You have time to consider,” Meve softened her voice, “for now, perhaps we should finish our meal. Worry about bathing when the tub comes and worry about bed afterward.” 

Reynard smiled softly and tucked into his plate at the same time that Meve did, his foot knocking against hers under the table. A wave of relief rushed over Meve because of it, a reminder that he was not at all so opposed to being close in such a way. 

Heat pooled in Meve’s belly, heat that she’d rarely felt with regard to Reginald while he’d lived. Heat that she’d felt when she occasionally looked to the knights that served her so loyally or her occasional handmaidens. 

Heat.

Heat she allowed herself  _ privately _ when she though of Reynard, and had felt for the last two months.

Her cheeks pinked at the same moment that there was a knock on the door. 

“Your bath, milady!” A woman’s voice called from outside. “May we come in?”

“You may,” Meve called back. She stood and helped Reynard stack their dirtied dishes in the middle of the table so that they might be taken away easier. She opened the door and the innkeeper’s wife and daughter came in, both hauling buckets of water so hot that steam rose from the surface. The buckets were carried behind a wooden partition in the room and poured into a wooden basin. The water sloshed as bucket after bucket was poured in, and the two ladies hurried back downstairs for more water. 

The ritual continued two more times and then they were closing the door behind them, casting quick glances to Reynard on the way out, and then the door was closed. 

Meve and Reynard were finally alone. 

“Reynard,” Meve stood and began to approach the partition. “Would you be opposed to joining me?” 

“I would not be,” Reynard replied, raising from his seat and picking it up to follow after Meve. Given the size of the tub there was no way that the two of them might be able to bathe together, but he could at least stay close. Meve would like that, and she was certain that Reynard would as well. “So long as you are not opposed to it, Meve.”

“I’m not,” Meve said, glancing to the steaming tub. Beside it, someone had set out a small tray of toiletries. Bottles of floral scented oils, a tiny jar of some sort of salts, and simple smelling lye soap. Much more than she’d hoped for when she’d first decided to ask for a bath. “It seems they’ve decided to bring out everything.” 

“I asked for the best that they could offer,” Reynard replied, taking his seat beside the tub. “They decided to deliver, I suppose.” He looked to her, eyes open and wide and trusting. “Should I pour the oils while you undress?”

Meve paused. She hadn’t considered that Reynard might be interested in taking on such an  _ active _ role while she bathed. Somehow it hadn’t been in her thoughts that much at all, not beyond the possibility of him washing her back with a soft cloth. 

“If you would like,” Meve said after a moment. “I’d hardly be opposed. ”

She watched as Reynard rose and went to the little tray, removing the bottles one by one as he considered the scents. Meve couldn’t help but glance over and watch. Meve hesitated with her hands at the hem of her shirt. “Choose the one you like,” Meve said, “I doubt that the scent will last long once we’re back on the road. Perhaps the one that best compliments horse and smoke would be best.” 

Reynard stilled and glanced to her, the gravity of the option that Meve was giving him dawning on him all at once. “I have no doubt that you’re correct,” Reynard said, “I thought that you would have preferred to choose.” 

“After so long of smelling like sweat and my horse, I think I’ll take any scent,” Meve said quietly, “and I trust that you’ll have an idea of what I would like.” 

Reynard nodded and set aside the bottle that he chose. At the same time that Meve laid her shirt over a small table, he was rolling up his sleeves to the elbow and tucking them in neatly so that his arms were bare. Meve stilled and simply stared. She couldn’t remember a time that he’d ever had his sleeves rolled up in such a way, not even after years of knowing him.

Somehow there was something intimate about something so simple, something that touched her more than the thought that she was undressing herself in the presence of someone she fully intended to take to bed in an hour’s time. 

Reynard plucked the tiny cork from the bottle he’d chosen and tipped the thin oil inside into the bath, reaching into the still steaming water to mix the scent in better. The sweet scent of lemongrass, lavender, and marjoram wafted through the room, bringing a new warmth to it that Meve enjoyed greatly. 

She started in on her trousers, unlacing them and tugging them down and off her body in one motion before laying them out on the table with her shirt. 

When she reached for the laces that held on her small clothes, Meve paused. 

Once she took them off, there was no turning back from what the two of them were doing. No taking back the intimacy of the moment, no brushing off what Reynard’s presence brought. No pretending that she had anything that he didn’t know anymore. 

Reynard looked over at her. “I hope that’ll—” His words died in his throat and he stared at her. “Ah.”

“Ah,” Meve echoed him, tugging the laces apart and letting the small clothes fall open to reveal the swell of her chest. There was no need to keep her breasts bound down for combat as she kept them during the day. Should she find the need to swing a sword she preferred it. 

For this moment, it was unnecessary.

Reynard cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. 

“Should I—” He began, definitely unsure of himself. 

Meve swallowed and looked back at Reynard, feeling equally unsure of herself. “Don’t feel that you must go,” Meve replied. “I’d rather you stay.” 

“I’m aware,” Reynard’s gaze was staying pointedly up towards Meve’s face, though she could tell that he was just  _ itching _ to get a glance at the rest of her. Meve turned away from Reynard, just for a moment removed the rest of her small clothes, and began to approached both him and the bath. He looked up at her from his seat, still focused on her face more than anything else. “Should I help you in?”

“No,” Meve replied, “I’m more than capable of handling it for myself.” Something about the idea of touching Reynard in that exact moment felt like too much. She climbed into the tub and sank down into the water, sinking down until her entire body from the collar down was completely submerged.

The hot water’s effect was immediate. Meve felt the tension in her body start to unknit so sweetly that she allowed her eyes to slip shut and leaned back against the wall of the tub. “I’ve missed this,” Meve remarked, keeping her eyes shut. “A proper bath.” 

“I think after so long we’re all missing baths,” Reynard said, so awkward but not shying away form her. At her side she heard him shifting about and gathering something made of cloth up in his hands. She didn’t know what it would have been exactly but Reynard seemed dedicated to whatever it was. “You should lift your head,” Reynard said from beside her.

Meve did as he asked, trusting that whatever he was doing would be  _ good. _ A soft folded towel slid into place behind her head, supporting her neck instead of forcing her to hold her head upright. She could relax. Meve cracked her eyes open, turned her head to the side, and smiled up at Reynard. “Thank you,” she murmured to him. “I hadn’t even considered. ”

“I know,” Reynard sat at her side, arms draped over his knees as he leaned forward in his seat comfortably. He still looked distinctly unsure of himself, but when Meve let her gaze flick away from Reynard’s face for just a moment she noticed the distinct tenting at the front of his trousers. “I hope it’s comfortable enough.”

“It is,” Meve confirmed for him. “Are you comfortable? I’m aware that this is untread territory for us both in many ways.” 

“Yes,” Reynard flushed red. “Your comfort is my comfort, Meve. It’s just now that you’re in the bath I’m not entirely sure what I’m meant to do besides sit here and talk.” 

Meve looked up at the ceiling and considered Reynard’s plight. In the corner a spider wound a fly into its web, uncaring of the matters of the people below. “You could take my hair down, if you’d like,” Meve finally told Reynard, “it’ll need to be washed.”

“And you are giving me permission to wash it?” 

“If you choose to do so,” Meve watched Reynard as he stood up, brought the chair around, and set it down in a spot where he’d be able to reach her head from where he sat. It placed Reynard securely out of Meve’s line of sight, and she had no intention to go craning her neck in order to track Reynard’s every movement. “Should I take this as a yes?” 

“You should,” Reynard said. “I’m going to let your hair down.” 

“You don’t have to tell me,” A wide smile cracked across Meve’s face, a small laugh escaping her over how  _ silly _ the whole matter felt. “I invited you to.” 

“And I’d prefer you know what I’m doing before I do it,” Reynard said, “you can’t see me from there. I assume after so much you’re tired of being surprised.”

And oh, how Meve was tired of surprises. She was tired of running into Nilgaardians, Scoia’tael, and monsters alike. She was sick of trudging through swamps and burned farmland just as much as she was tired of nights spent in tents and the elements. She was just tired.

His fingers pressed against the crown of her head before he went for the plait that hanged over the side of the tub. Reynard’s agile fingertips smoothed over Meve’s scalp and massaged her ever so gently. A quiet pleased moan escaped Meve before she was able to stop it. Reynard stilled, fingers still against her scalp. 

“Everything is alright?”

“It’s wonderful, Reynard, please continue.” 

Emboldened, Reynard massaged Meve’s scalp. Pleasant tingles rolled down her spine at the feeling, but eventually he picked up her plait and removed the thong that kept the braid gathered. With the thin leather out of the way, Reynard began to loosen Meve’s hair until it fell loose behind her head. 

“May I make a comment?” Reynard asked, fingers still stroking through Meve’s waves of hair. “I’d rather not cause an offense by asking unwarranted.”

“You may,” Meve cracked an eye open to try to glance back at Meve. “Should I be concerned?” 

“No,” Reynard said, “I just never realized how much white you have in your hair.”

“I suppose the blonde hides it well,” Meve picked up an arm to reach back in Reynard’s direction, over her head. She doubted that she’d be able to touch him at all but that wasn’t what mattered. “You can’t hide your grey.” 

Reynard chuckled, “I suppose my age shows.” 

“No more than mine,” Meve said, “we’re nearly the same age, don’t forget.”

“And I look older,” Reynard sniped back at her with all the same level of playfulness. “I like the white though, it suits you.” 

Meve snorted, “How?” 

“You’re a wise queen,” Reynard said. 

She let out a quiet hum. “Most days I don’t feel all that  _ wise _ . And you should know that the grey at your temples is a reminder of how experienced you are. Hardly a bad thing by my view.” 

Reynard let out a hum which in so many ways echoed Meve’s own. “Would you like me to wash your hair?” 

“if you’d like,” Meve said, “For the moment I’m content to just stew.” 

“Then I’ll rub your shoulders instead,” Reynard said, “until you decide you would prefer having the chance to move.”

“If you’d like,” Meve sighed. She let her eyes slip back shut. Behind her Reynard shuffled forward in his seat. She listened as he tried to further roll up his sleeves to ensure he wouldn’t come out of the moment any more drenched than he had to be. Reynard’s hands dangled down at the sides of her head, his way of signaling his presence to her. 

Meve let out a quiet sound. “Would you be opposed to coming to bed with me afterward, Reynard?” 

“Absolutely not,” Reynard said perhaps a little too eagerly. “I’ve certainly spent enough time thinking about it over the years.”

“Have you?” Meve smiled as his hands met her exposed shoulders and Reynard began to knead at her shoulders with firm pressure. 

Reynard worked his thumbs into the base of Meve’s neck first. “I said I was content with being a bachelor,” he said, "And I made no exaggeration when I said that. Being at your side, even from a distance, is deeply preferable to a loveless marriage engaged solely for the sake of politics or continuing a family name by my view.“

“And what will become of the Odo name?” Meve asked, almost facetiously. “Does that not concern you?” 

“Not particularly,” Reynard answered, “being the last in my line does not bother me.”

Meve looked back up the ceiling, looking for a way to sort her thoughts but finding herself unable to truly do so. “Even if I were to take someone on, marry again, I fear I’m too old to have another child.”

“Does that concern you?”

“I’ve had two sons,” Meve said, “that’s been more than enough, given the circumstances.” Reynard tilted some part of himself up against her bare palm, and Meve realized a moment too later that it was his cheek. Her fingertips just barely kissed Reynard’s hairline. “I don’t think I would even want another.”

Reynard sighed, “We’ll take whatever precautions necessary anyhow,” he said. “Should something become of it, I trust you know what you’d do.” 

“Isbel,” Meve said perhaps a little too distantly. “The war path is no place to be considering children. Especially when we fight against any would-be child’s half-brother.” 

This was a dangerous line of thought, Meve thought. So dangerous that she wasn’t sure that there was a way to get back from what it meant. There were too many lines that were being crossed that night, and there was no getting back from them. No taking any of it back. 

All that there was were her, and Reynard. 

“Wash my hair,” Meve said, “And I will scrub myself down. Afterward, I’d like to go to bed with you. Enjoy the night as much as we can before we have to make the decision to part.” 

“Of course,” Reynard said. “But first—” He turned in his seat in search of something. Meve pushed herself upright and turned to face Reynard. 

Her eyes met his. “What’s the matter?” 

“We could use a pitcher,” Reynard said, “your hair isn’t wet enough to wash properly.” 

“Of course not,” Meve sighed and she looked around the room. On one of the shelves in the corner she spotted their quarry, a simple clay pitcher waiting for use. “The wall.” 

Reynard sat up straight, looked, then rose to his feet to fetch the jug. When he settled back into place he dunked it under the water right alongside Meve’s body. 

A careful hand on her spine kept Meve in place. “I’m going to pour,” Reynard instructed her, “If that’s alright.”

“Pour,” Meve sighed, closing her eyes and tilting her head forward to try and minimize the chance of the water getting in her eyes or worse, up her nose. 

The jug of water tipped forward and the water poured out, splashing against Meve’s scalp before dripping down into the bath. Reynard poured the jug over her hair three times, just to ensure that her hair was sufficiently wet. 

After, he reached for a bottle of some sort of soapy mixture, and began to wash the oil and dirt from Meve’s hair. In that moment Meve reached for the bar of soap and put herself to work in the same way, cleaning away the remnants of the road. 

Once she got past simply wanting to soak in the water, the actual washing herself went with relative ease and speed right up until the moment that Reynard pulled her in towards him by the shoulders to really work the soap into her scalp. Meve tried to pull back away from him in a form of playful protest, but Reynard didn't let her get far. 

"Allow me, please," Reynard said, his forearms knocking gently against the back of her head as he worked. "I want to do this this." 

Meve laughed and closed her eyes, drinking in the comforting feeling of him working away at her hair. When he brought the soap through to the ends it was done by carefully combing his fingers through Meve’s locks, Reynard sure to never pull or tug in any way that could be even slightly uncomfortable. 

"Close your eyes," Reynard said after a moment. "It's about time to rinse."

"Considerate," Meve commented as she followed along with Reynard’s instruction. He dipped the jug back into the bathwater and poured it over Meve’s head with care. When no soap got into her eyes and Meve made no visible protest, Reynard was emboldened. He poured again and worked the remaining suds out of Meve’s hair. 

When he finally stopped touching her to towel his hands off, Meve found herself silently mourning the loss of contact. She glanced back at Reynard over her shoulder. "I believe we're done here," Meve said, tilting her head to the side. "And I believe we can leave the bathwater to be handled in the morning." 

Reynard’s eyes met hers. "Should I get a towel?"

"Please," Meve said, "and while I dry off, I would appreciate it if you cleared off the bed. Assuming you are still interesting in coming to bed?" 

"I am, very much so." Reynard rose from his seat and grabbed for a towel, offering it to Meve. Meve stepped into the towel and Reynard brought himself in close to her before she could do anything to take it from his hands and wrap it up around her. He tucked the towel's end in at the top of her breast and when his hands lingered for a moment too long, Meve said nothing. She just looked across at him with interest because he was quite obviously looking forward to what was to come in a few minute's time. 

She just needed to dry off. 

Meve swallowed, feeling a lump forming in her throat. "The bed, Reynard," She told him in a quiet command that she seriously doubted he would disobey. Reynard offered her a weak smile and a nod, and then he was off to clear Meve's things off of the bed and open up the space for the two of them to put to use. 

She watched him go and for a moment Meve even felt some sadness over his retreating form, if only for a moment. She'd be joining him soon, but still she felt it, that pang of knowing that at the end of the day their union would not be able to mean much. Not without her seeing to it that she pulled the strings to ensure that Reynard stayed at her side after the war.  _ If  _ they got to see a time after the war, which was something which Meve could hardly count on given the circumstances. 

Meve took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down, reminding herself of what was to come. There was nothing to fear and nothing to be concerned with. He would be there, and he would be waiting for her. She'd have her time with him in only a few minutes. 

She dried herself and took her time doing it. Whether she was doing it for the sake of her own peace of mind or because she was worried that he might decide to back out, Meve wasn't quite sure of. If he did make the decision, perhaps it would be easier if he didn't have to do it to her face. 

And yet Meve couldn't help but think that she would resent Reynard for it if he did. 

But this was Reynard she was considering. Reynard, the unerringly loyal. Reynard who had served her for the last eight, bordering upon nine years. Reynard, the very man that she trusted as her right hand because she could trust nobody else so closely. 

He waited for her beside the bed, his shirt off and folded neatly on a chair nearby. Meve cleared her throat as she came in and peered across the room at her advisor. 

Reynard stilled and looked at her, standing straight spined and serious as much as he was nervous and hesitant. "Your Grace, Meve--"

"Reynard," Meve greeted him. "I see you've decided to stay."

"I didn't have anywhere better to be," Reynard admitted, "nor anywhere that I wanted to be more. I hope that is quite alright." 

Meve hummed. "It's more than alright," she reassured him as she approached the bed. Reynard seated himself on its edge, on the side opposite to where Meve sat herself. Now that the two of them were there with the bed and getting ready to go, Meve wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to do. Her life hadn't afforded her as many chances to take lovers as she would have liked, and Reynard had always struck her as being somewhat prudish. 

They were both in equally unsure territory, and that was all that there was to it in a way. 

Reynard watched Meve as she toweled off her hair and took her time while she did it. She blushed under his gaze, but soon she was taking in a breath and trying to find the best way to lead the two of them forwards. Somehow being on a battlefield was much less terrifying than sharing a bed with Reynard for the first time. 

"It'd be for the best if you disrobed," Meve reminded Reynard, keeping her voice gentle for the sake of both them. "If that's quite alright." 

"Of course," Reynard said. He stood up and took two steps away from the bed. Meve leaned back and decided to do nothing more than watch. All she had to do when the time came was drop the towel and she'd be completely exposed. But Reynard did what she expected, took his time to untie the string that kept his trousers up, let them drop to the floor along with his braies. He bent over to retrieve the clothes, folding them over his arm and laying them on the chair where his shirt already waited. 

His clothes set aside, the two of them were left to simply take in the sights. 

Meve pointedly kept her gaze from falling to the cock between his legs, hard and ready and waiting for her. 

"Do you... like what you see?" Reynard asked, all nervousness and nothing else. It did nothing to flag his erection. 

"I think that I do," Meve replied, "you're just about exactly what I thought you'd look like, you know." 

"Is that so?" Reynard asked. "May I ask how?"

Meve's gaze drifted over his body. "The hair on your chest," she said easily, "about as much muscle as I knew you'd have." She raised an eyebrow at the sign of a dark spot on his chest. "The birthmark is a surprise, if I might say so." 

Reynard glanced down at the splotch and Meve watched redness appear on his face and then rush down towards his chest in an embarrassed flush. “I suppose so,” Reynard said, and it occurred to Meve that he simply didn’t know how to respond. Although, it was an odd remark, Meve thought. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing. “You look good as well.”

“Do I?” Meve crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in a way that placed herself on display. It was a tease, in many ways. “What exactly, would you say looks so nice?” 

“I could think of many things,” Reynard approached her, still red-faced. “But I’m afraid we don’t have the time for me to list them all.” 

“Hmm,” Meve hummed along, “pity, that,” Meve pat the space at her side to beckon Reynard to her. He approached and took the seat at her side, so close that their thighs touched. It was then that Meve finally removed the towel that hanged around her body. It dropped onto the bed.

Her eyes met Reynard’s. “Well?” She asked, “Satisfactory, I hope?” For a moment, she let her gaze drop down to his cock, hard and dark with blood. Dripping clear liquid at the tip.  _ Wanting. _

“Very,” Reynard replied, “Although I’d like the chance to touch you.” 

Meve cocked her head to the side. “What, exactly, is stopping you then?” She asked him. 

He shrugged. “Permission, I suppose,” Reynard said, picking up a hand and letting it settle on Meve’s thigh. Meve took note of things about him she’d never noticed before. The nicks of scarring around his knuckles, the calluses and weathered skin. Ever so gently, Reynard squeezed her thigh and Meve took in a sharp breath. “Is this alright?” Reynard asked her, voice quiet.

“Quite,” Meve replied, turning herself to face Reynard just a little bit better. Her thighs opened, ever so slightly. She was wet and could feel a familiar heat and tightness taking hold of her body, between her hips. She wanted him, oh how she wanted him. “I’d like to kiss you, Reynard. If that’s quite alright.” 

Reynard nodded, almost shyly, then leaned in to capture Meve’s lips in both a kiss and an answer. Meve responded in kind and wrapped her arms around Reynard’s neck, settled them on his shoulders and kept him in close. She huddled in closer to his body, so close that there was no room between them.

When Reynard’s arms wrapped around her, Meve jolted for just a second before she relaxed just as quickly, taking in the warmth. When he squeezed her hips and ran his hands over his back, Meve arched into the touch, enjoying it. The kiss didn’t break, not for so much as a second. 

Meve allowed herself to sling a leg over Reynard’s hips and use it to guide him up further on the bed so that the two of them were laying there properly, side by side but so wrapped up in each other. The kiss intensified, as did the contact between the two of them. Meve rolled them so that she laid on top of Reynard, her breasts pressed to his bare chest. 

She let the kiss break, if only to ensure that both of them had a moment to  _ breathe. _

He looked up at her with wide blown-dark eyes and flushed cheeks. He stared up at her like she was going to end his life in that moment. 

“Well,” Reynard said quietly, “this is nice.” 

“Very,” Meve sighed, allowing herself to settle. “You’re a better kisser than I expected, Reynard.” 

He raised an eyebrow and ended up with a look that reminded Meve more of Gascon than anyone else. “I’m not certain if I should feel complimented or insulted.” 

“If I’m honest,” Meve admitted with a soft laugh, “neither am I. But it is pleasant.” 

“It is,” Reynard sighed. “I’d like to…”

“To what?" Meve asked, staring down into his face, at his lightly chapped lips. He was not the most handsome man that Meve had ever seen, but there was appeal in that. Imperfection, there was beauty in it. 

Reynard swallowed hard and his adam’s apple bobbed visibly in his throat. “i’d like to make love to you, Meve.” 

She hummed quietly, tracing a finger over his chest, through the wiry salt and pepper hair there, over a nipple just to feel it harden under her touch. “Interesting choice of words, Reynard.”

“It was what felt most accurate,” Reynard said with all of the same matter-of-factness that she valued him for. If he were one to obfuscate, Meve would have felt absolutely no interest. “I understand it may be crossing particular boundaries to say.” 

Meve hummed, considering. “I’m not wholly opposed,” she said, keeping her voice as quiet as she could. If the walls did indeed have ears, she wanted to do what she could to hide the truth of what went on in her chambers. “But I have to remind you that you and I are not in a position to be anything more outside of this room, not at this moment with no end to the war in sight.” 

“I understand that,” Reynard said, taking a deep breath. “Gascon would suggest using the term regardless because our lives are short and we could die tomorrow.” 

“There is a certain wisdom in that, isn’t there?” Meve leaned in and kissed Reynard again, briefly. “And for that reason, I’ll permit it.” 

“You’ll—”

Meve kissed him again, cutting him off before he could say anything else. “Make love to me, Reynard Odo,” she whispered against his lips, raking her fingers through his hair and taking in the pleasantness of just having someone so  _ close. _

Reynard pushed himself partially upright, arms wrapping around Meve’s hips and him turning them carefully so that she laid underneath him instead of on top of him. He kissed her again as Meve settled into place, and then sat up to evaluate her properly. 

Meve felt a sudden wave of shyness come over her because of the scrutiny, but did nothing to hide herself. 

“You’re beautiful,” Reynard whispered to her, “better than I imagined.” 

“You’ve imagined it?” Meve asked, only half teasing. “How many times?”

Reynard swallowed. “Too many to count,” he placed a hand on Meve’s belly, just touching her and doing nothing else. “We should put the towel to use. Prevent any unnecessary mess or any rumors that might come to light.” 

Meve glanced down at the towel which still lay on the bed, down by her ankles. “I can always trust you to be terribly pragmatic, can’t I?”

“Always,” Reynard said, leaning back and grabbing the towel. He felt over the fabric for just a second, trying to find the driest parts of it. “Lift your hips, if you would—”

Meve did as he instructed and Reynard carefully slid the towel in under her hips, placed carefully to ensure that nothing could reach the bedspread after they finished. Meve settled back into place and Reynard leaned back over top of her, catching one of Meve’s thighs to draw her leg to the side and give himself the space to settle.

“This is alright?” Reynard asked again. 

“Aside from the towel being damp, yes,” Meve sighed, “this is more than alright.” 

Reynard pressed his hips against Meve’s letting his cock rub up against her for only a moment. His dark eyes slipped shut for just a moment and a small sound escaped him. Meve wrapped her arms around Reynard’s shoulders and kneaded at his skin. 

“Yes?”

“Yes,” Meve whispered back. “Make love to me, Reynard. Do it as though this could be our last day on this earth.” 

He nodded, surged forward for one last kiss, then reached between them to stroke his fingers over Meve’s cunt, slick with want as it was. He rubbed her clit, circling it with the tip of his finger and sat up a bit more, giving himself the room to work. 

He didn’t allow for the touch to stop for a second, not even when he freed his other hand to guide the round head of his cock to Meve’s entrance. It prodded up against her and she rocked her hips against Reynard’s, urging it close to her.

“Ready?” He gave her a nervous look.

Meve sighed a “ _ yes _ ,” and then Reynard pushed forward, his cock breaching her, uncomfortable at first. He stilled, checking with Meve with a look to ensure that everything was alright. Meve nodded, and so Reynard began to thrust into her, slow and shallow as she adjusted to the intrusion, bit by bit. 

With every thrust he got deeper until their hips were meeting. Fully seated, Reynard adjusted their position, bracketed her form with his own, and continued on with the long, slow rolls of his hips. Meve clutched him to her, fingernails digging in a little more harshly than she intended, and spread her legs wider to give Reynard more space to work. 

He lowered himself to capture Meve in another kiss, keeping his thrusts easy and steady. Meve was glad for it, she didn’t want anything particularly rigorous after she spent all day every day in a saddle to begin with. 

“I love you,” Reynard whispered to her between kisses. Meve let out a tiny gasp in response as he ground his hips into her own, his hipbone pressing against her clit even as he was as deep inside of her as he could be. “So much.” 

“Aye,” was the only sound that Meve could get out in response. Her eyes slipped shut and her head tilted back in pleasure, and Meve was lost to Reynard. She was lost to him, he was a part of her, and she didn’t even  _ care _ because for the first time in a long time she felt so much. She felt  _ loved _ , truly, and not in terms of her being a leader. “Don’t stop,” she whimpered into Reynard’s ear. 

He groaned quietly, “Never,” he murmured back, still keeping that same easy pace. Meve guided him into yet another kiss and gave herself to it, to him. Reynard groaned into it, deepening his thrusts and holding himself close to Meve. “I couldn’t dream of it, your majesty.” He sighed the words into her ear, not even caring about the title.

For the moment, Meve didn’t care either. She picked her legs up and wrapped them around Reynard’s waist upon the force of instinct alone, not wanting to lose him. She urged him on, deeper, faster, and Reynard was more than willing to oblige her. 

Soon enough, his hips slapped against Meve’s own as Reynard’s thrusts quickened and Meve found herself moving steadily towards an orgasm, driven as much by the close contact and the fact that it was Reynard as she was driven by anything else. 

“Reynard,” Meve gasped up at him, watching his face. His dark eyes had slid shut in pleasure, and she noticed the way that he bit at his lip. He was lost in the pleasure, just the same as she was. There were commands that she could have given, but Meve only found them dying on her tongue before she could even  _ hope _ to get them out. 

He kissed her, deep and slow and steady, grinding his cock into her as he did so. His pubic bone pressed to Meve’s clitoris once more, and that was it, the thing that pushed her over. 

It was not the most explosive orgasm that Meve had ever had. Far from the most powerful, far from one which overwhelmed the sense. It came with the ease of waves on a disturbed pond, washing over Meve’s body bit by bit and leaving her warm and content. 

Meve moaned, soft and almost quiet. The only thing which truly betrayed how good she felt was the way that she clutched onto Reynard. Her legs that were wrapped around his waist tightened and pulled him in closer to her, so close that he couldn’t move nearly at all. She grabbed onto him and clutched Reynard to her, uncaring that the blunt edges of her nails dug in for just a moment. 

She arched through the orgasm, while Reynard’s thrusts slowed and softened in strength. He rocked into her, deep but barely moving at all. 

“Meve?” He asked her. “Are you—”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Keep going, please.” 

Reynard nodded, gently did what he could to loosen her thighs where they were wrapped around him, and continued his thrusts. They were so slow that Meve could practically feel all of him as he slid in and out of her, up until the moment that his thrusts grew erratic and—

The last thrust was  _ hard _ , intense even. Meve gasped at the feeling but it didn’t last. Reynard pulled himself from her body and only then did he spill on the towel that rested under Meve’s hips and thighs. He let out a quiet groan as he did so, hips stuttering so that the head of his cock rubbed against the towel, just a little bit. 

“There,” Reynard sighed, looking up at Meve. There was a quiet part of Meve that felt oddly bereft, but she tried to pay it no mind. She simply reached for Reynard and beckoned him up to lie beside her. 

Reynard settled at her side and stretched out beside her.

“Was that alright?” He asked her, voice quiet. 

“Very,” Meve sighed. She glanced over at him and how he laid at her side, facing the ceiling instead of her. He looked like he was in use of a proper bath, himself. “Thank you for indulging me, Reynard.” 

“I would hardly say you were the only one to be indulged here,” Reynard answered her. “I have to thank you, Meve.” 

“Don’t,” Meve whispered to him, “I asked for you for a reason.” She turned to face Reynard, carefully angling her legs away from the mess that laid between them. 

He smiled, eyes slipping shut. “As much as I’d like to stay the night, I assume I should be getting back.”

“Most likely,” Meve sighed. “I can do away with the mess myself, don’t be worried about that.” 

Reynard sat up and watched her. “I’d rather be able to stay and help.” 

Meve pushed herself upright and into Reynard’s arms, pressing a soft kiss to his lips that bore no room for argument. “You’ve done more than enough, Reynard,” She told him gently. Be better not to spoil the moment too much.“ 

“Of course,” Reynard stood up and walked over to the chair where he’d left his clothes. Meve watched him as he dressed, then decided to fold the towel in over itself so that there was no chance of the mess getting out. 

Meve set it aside. “I’d like to be able to do this again, Reynard,” She said truthfully. “It the opportunity presents itself. Please remember that I am in no way attempting to reject you.”

He pulled his shirt on. “I don’t see how I could imagine it in any other way,” He said to her. “Your thoughts are the same as mine, Meve. We have a duty to the war, and then what comes after can be decided when the time comes to do so.”

He stood straight, in a way that made Meve think for a moment that he was about to snap a salute instead of anything else. “I’d like to be able to share your bed again as well, your grace.” 

“Meve,” She corrected him. “As long as we’re in this room, alone, please just call me Meve.”

“Meve,” Reynard replied, gaze travelling over her as she sat down on the bed once more. “You always are exceptional, Meve. I do hope you know that.” 

“I hope you aren’t just saying that,” she said, voice soft as ever. “I hope to prove it to you again once we’re riding again into battle.” Meve watched Reynard’s face for anything, any waver. She found none. “I’ll see you in the morning, Reynard. Sleep well.” 

“You too,” Reynard said with a small bow, and then he left the room and Meve was left alone to a cold bed. 

After the war, Meve reminded herself, she’d have him again if he felt interested in being there at her side. 

She could survive a few more cold nights.

Besides, Meve told herself as she cleaned the sweat from her skin, there was always the off chance that the opportunity to share a bed might appear to the two of them again. It was merely a matter of rolling with the tides and accepting the challenges and boons as they came. 

Reynard, Meve knew, would be there at her side, eternally loyal as he was.

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on Tumblr](https://arynasea.tumblr.com)   
>  [Find me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/hymen_opus)   
> 


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